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beccaelizabethWoke up at about 7, read a bit, phone ran out, plugged it in to recharge and grabbed a paper book, woke up again around 2pm. Oops.
But I did dream a sprawling Dr Strange thing, which kept on involving me half awake deciding it was still better than anything we'll get from the Marvel movie. I was dreaming kind of as Strange, but I was the sarcastic voice in the back of his head, not actually driving. So he kept screwing up and I kept pointing it out, which was awesome fun.
His hands were screwed up so he was studying magic. And while he studied his hands were getting steadily better, but he figured that was the daily practice of magic wiggling his fingers til they hurt, but moved correctly. But after a while he noticed he wasn't getting hungry and was only getting skinny very slowly; he hadn't been eating but he had a flask of water he was told to only sip at, and that seemed to be all he needed. But he didn't spend much time thinking about it because Naboo and velociraptors.
... he'd started walking the Hall of Worlds, and got a bit lost. And then a lot lost. And at once point he walked into a room with a balcony and out of it he could swear he'd seen that view on Star Wars, and not just the Earth type landscape neither. Somewhere else looked a whole lot like Rivendell, but he didn't stay there hardly any time. He kept moving to try and get back somewhere familiar. But then he reached a big meeting hall with big tables in it, a balcony again that was bright and difficult to see out of, and five different doors that lead back to the Hall. And when he tried to leave, he found uniformed guards out there, warning him that because of a prison break they'd dropped the oxygen content and if he needed to breathe he better stay out for a while. So he tried a different door, but it seemed like the same stretch of hall, only opposite him the door was open and a giant David Hasselhoff stared out.
... yeah, he was a bit surprising in the dream, too.
So Strange slammed that door quick sharp, but not before some pigeons got out. And flapped over to the other door. And somehow let the Hoff out.
He turned out to be some kind of magical crime lord, and he had a meeting in the big hall.
The other people just sort of appeared there, and they started looking down at themselves and then looking up at Strange and kind of grinning. Together they looked like a mafia movie only wearing purple suits. One of them asked if this was a paradigm he brought, and said it was fun, he'd keep wearing it a while. Another made the suit unravel and put it back together with more gold and swirly bits. Apparently cadbury purple just wasn't sufficient to express his style. And more and more of them kept popping in, and Strange started noticing they were eyeing him like he was the chocolate.
Bit not good.
So they started asking him questions about magic, and what he intended to do with it, and if he was good or evil. After a quick back of his mind consultation, we decided he was answer with just "I was a surgeon!" as if that was a complete answer, and let them fill in the blanks how they wanted. Which seemed to satisfy. And then they moved on to what there was to eat around here, and it came out that we hadn't been eating, and then they got hold of the flask.
After passing it around the table, someone took a couple of swallows, and then one guy at the far end chugged it, and seemed to be having a really good time. And getting younger. A lot younger. Like 80s to 40s younger. So Strange looked down at his own hands, like really looked, and concluded that something far stranger than healing had been happening to them. But they were still a bit twisty and hurting, so now he really, really wanted that flask back. But when he got hold of it there were hardly any drips left. When he looked at them right they did kind of glow though. So he went looking for that gold glow and could see it in other things. The meeting was going on around him, pretty much ignoring him now, so he ignored them back and went looking for gold. First it was in the light fittings, and he could kind of coax it out. Then it was in some bracelets that were lying around, and he pulled it out the pattern of those pretty swiftly. That people noticed, and they started to get grumbly. So he strode over to the two that had chugged his drink, and just kind of pulled and the magic started streaming back out of them.
The thing where this insta aged them back up again was beneath his notice, he just wanted his shiny.
The others scattered, getting away from him, and the two he was drawing on started to kind of come apart. Now he was getting shiny black along with the glowing gold, and it was cold. But he sorted it out neatly and pushed the black back to its origin, possibly shoving off some of his own with it. And when there was no more gold he staggered back and found his whole balance had changed. He was young and strong and his hands were as good as they'd ever been, but his whole body felt very odd indeed. And then he started to flap his wings and realised exactly why.
... I realised when I woke up this was a metaphor joke. Strange got super magic high.
So then he flew around a bit and found a balcony full of Elizabethans, complete with an Elizabeth. And they were well impressed with his wingspan, and she was very pretty, so he followed them home.
And then it got weird.
Turned out this was the 2nd Elizabethan age and the world was gearing up for WWII, but in England the fashions had rolled back to Elizabeth I, and not just fashion neither. It was like someone was pushing hard on reality to try and bring back the 'golden age', oppressive laws and all. And the candidates were many and varied, because it could be overseas enemies trying to destroy the defences of Britain, but it could also be some idiot thinking the real problem with the world was it not being devout. Winged men in WWII would get a more mixed reception than someone taken for an actual Angel in the original Elizabethan.
So Strange was flapping around trying to angel real good, and be helpful, and impressive, and managing increasing incoherence and a really erratic flightpath. Also it turned out his wings were shrinking, which wasn't pleasing to him. And it took him a lot longer to notice the inconsistencies and problems than it took me, because he really really wanted to impress Elizabeth, who was a really pretty redhead like out of the movies. Really. Pretty.
*facepalm*
So it turned out that his body had reacted to such an influx of magic by storing it externally, so the wings were like a magic fuel tank until he learned to digest it. And he was processing it so quickly he was really messing himself up. He had been warned to sip, and here he was with a mega overdose.
Not awesome.
So there was this one woman, a south asian woman of restricted growth, wearing a miniature version of the Queen's dress but with no hair and a dot on her forehead. And she had reacted to Strange in a very mixed way, recognising him, seeming pleased to see him, but not very pleased about something about him. Which turned out to be the wings, because she knew magic overdose when she saw it. She knew what was going on, with the regressive pressure of magic, and she had been pleased to see a powerful practitioner turn up to help, but it became obvious he was not as much help as he could be, since he got distracted by flying and a pretty girl. So she and I were like *facepalm* and trying to get him to sober up.
And then I woke up, so I don't know how we fixed it.
That had lots of good bits though, that had extra dimensional beings cosplaying purple mafia, and someone trying to magic back the good old days, and wings as a sign of magic overdose.
Also it was just plain fun to dream, unlike a bazillion things lately.
Now I have to get around to my somewhat belated waking up.
But I did dream a sprawling Dr Strange thing, which kept on involving me half awake deciding it was still better than anything we'll get from the Marvel movie. I was dreaming kind of as Strange, but I was the sarcastic voice in the back of his head, not actually driving. So he kept screwing up and I kept pointing it out, which was awesome fun.
His hands were screwed up so he was studying magic. And while he studied his hands were getting steadily better, but he figured that was the daily practice of magic wiggling his fingers til they hurt, but moved correctly. But after a while he noticed he wasn't getting hungry and was only getting skinny very slowly; he hadn't been eating but he had a flask of water he was told to only sip at, and that seemed to be all he needed. But he didn't spend much time thinking about it because Naboo and velociraptors.
... he'd started walking the Hall of Worlds, and got a bit lost. And then a lot lost. And at once point he walked into a room with a balcony and out of it he could swear he'd seen that view on Star Wars, and not just the Earth type landscape neither. Somewhere else looked a whole lot like Rivendell, but he didn't stay there hardly any time. He kept moving to try and get back somewhere familiar. But then he reached a big meeting hall with big tables in it, a balcony again that was bright and difficult to see out of, and five different doors that lead back to the Hall. And when he tried to leave, he found uniformed guards out there, warning him that because of a prison break they'd dropped the oxygen content and if he needed to breathe he better stay out for a while. So he tried a different door, but it seemed like the same stretch of hall, only opposite him the door was open and a giant David Hasselhoff stared out.
... yeah, he was a bit surprising in the dream, too.
So Strange slammed that door quick sharp, but not before some pigeons got out. And flapped over to the other door. And somehow let the Hoff out.
He turned out to be some kind of magical crime lord, and he had a meeting in the big hall.
The other people just sort of appeared there, and they started looking down at themselves and then looking up at Strange and kind of grinning. Together they looked like a mafia movie only wearing purple suits. One of them asked if this was a paradigm he brought, and said it was fun, he'd keep wearing it a while. Another made the suit unravel and put it back together with more gold and swirly bits. Apparently cadbury purple just wasn't sufficient to express his style. And more and more of them kept popping in, and Strange started noticing they were eyeing him like he was the chocolate.
Bit not good.
So they started asking him questions about magic, and what he intended to do with it, and if he was good or evil. After a quick back of his mind consultation, we decided he was answer with just "I was a surgeon!" as if that was a complete answer, and let them fill in the blanks how they wanted. Which seemed to satisfy. And then they moved on to what there was to eat around here, and it came out that we hadn't been eating, and then they got hold of the flask.
After passing it around the table, someone took a couple of swallows, and then one guy at the far end chugged it, and seemed to be having a really good time. And getting younger. A lot younger. Like 80s to 40s younger. So Strange looked down at his own hands, like really looked, and concluded that something far stranger than healing had been happening to them. But they were still a bit twisty and hurting, so now he really, really wanted that flask back. But when he got hold of it there were hardly any drips left. When he looked at them right they did kind of glow though. So he went looking for that gold glow and could see it in other things. The meeting was going on around him, pretty much ignoring him now, so he ignored them back and went looking for gold. First it was in the light fittings, and he could kind of coax it out. Then it was in some bracelets that were lying around, and he pulled it out the pattern of those pretty swiftly. That people noticed, and they started to get grumbly. So he strode over to the two that had chugged his drink, and just kind of pulled and the magic started streaming back out of them.
The thing where this insta aged them back up again was beneath his notice, he just wanted his shiny.
The others scattered, getting away from him, and the two he was drawing on started to kind of come apart. Now he was getting shiny black along with the glowing gold, and it was cold. But he sorted it out neatly and pushed the black back to its origin, possibly shoving off some of his own with it. And when there was no more gold he staggered back and found his whole balance had changed. He was young and strong and his hands were as good as they'd ever been, but his whole body felt very odd indeed. And then he started to flap his wings and realised exactly why.
... I realised when I woke up this was a metaphor joke. Strange got super magic high.
So then he flew around a bit and found a balcony full of Elizabethans, complete with an Elizabeth. And they were well impressed with his wingspan, and she was very pretty, so he followed them home.
And then it got weird.
Turned out this was the 2nd Elizabethan age and the world was gearing up for WWII, but in England the fashions had rolled back to Elizabeth I, and not just fashion neither. It was like someone was pushing hard on reality to try and bring back the 'golden age', oppressive laws and all. And the candidates were many and varied, because it could be overseas enemies trying to destroy the defences of Britain, but it could also be some idiot thinking the real problem with the world was it not being devout. Winged men in WWII would get a more mixed reception than someone taken for an actual Angel in the original Elizabethan.
So Strange was flapping around trying to angel real good, and be helpful, and impressive, and managing increasing incoherence and a really erratic flightpath. Also it turned out his wings were shrinking, which wasn't pleasing to him. And it took him a lot longer to notice the inconsistencies and problems than it took me, because he really really wanted to impress Elizabeth, who was a really pretty redhead like out of the movies. Really. Pretty.
*facepalm*
So it turned out that his body had reacted to such an influx of magic by storing it externally, so the wings were like a magic fuel tank until he learned to digest it. And he was processing it so quickly he was really messing himself up. He had been warned to sip, and here he was with a mega overdose.
Not awesome.
So there was this one woman, a south asian woman of restricted growth, wearing a miniature version of the Queen's dress but with no hair and a dot on her forehead. And she had reacted to Strange in a very mixed way, recognising him, seeming pleased to see him, but not very pleased about something about him. Which turned out to be the wings, because she knew magic overdose when she saw it. She knew what was going on, with the regressive pressure of magic, and she had been pleased to see a powerful practitioner turn up to help, but it became obvious he was not as much help as he could be, since he got distracted by flying and a pretty girl. So she and I were like *facepalm* and trying to get him to sober up.
And then I woke up, so I don't know how we fixed it.
That had lots of good bits though, that had extra dimensional beings cosplaying purple mafia, and someone trying to magic back the good old days, and wings as a sign of magic overdose.
Also it was just plain fun to dream, unlike a bazillion things lately.
Now I have to get around to my somewhat belated waking up.